FOR THE BETTER
by sillym3
Summary: It took me a very long moment and a sight of my dead body to realize that I was no longer solid, no longer alive. That the bullet had took the last breath out of me.


**Disclaimer : **I don't own CSI, and Sara, and Grissom, and Brass. I don't make any profit by writing this fic (Hell, it even almost cost me my sanity).

**A/N : **This was intended to be betaed, but I lost my patience somewhere along the way. I deeply apologize for every error, mistake, and make-no-sense phrase in this story. I'm a foreigner at heart and at brain, sorry :)

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***~~~~~ FOR THE BETTER~~~~~***

Michelle was crying again. This child of mine had an ability to completely drain air from his lungs to produce one hell of loud scream. I hurried myself to her side, cradled her small frame in my arms until the shrill turned into sobs. The sad sobs she somehow had developed since the night her father gone.

"Come on now baby, back to sleep, Mommy's here." I whispered to her tiny ear. There were heavy rain and lightning outside. She loathed the noise.

"Da da," she mumbled between sobs and I felt my already broken heart cracking some more. She was always a daddy's little girl. She responded quickly to his touch, his sound, and even his scent. Her father in the other hand, was wrapped around Michelle's little fingers. He would spend hours rocking her in his arms, singing evergreen child songs and telling her stories. I once told him that a four-month-old couldn't understand his words and he frowned to me almost all evening for that.

"Give her to me!" It wasn't the high-pitch voice that startled me, but the sudden presence of the man in the nursery. I hold Michelle tighter to my chest. She was shocked and didn't like it a bit, the shrill crying presenting itself again.

"Wait," I looked up at his hands in horror, where the hell did he get that gun. "Wait for a moment."

"Give her to me!!!" He screamed and Michelle screamed too. The gun now hoisted square to my head.

"Michelle needs her sleep," I knew my voice was trembled but I had to make sure that my daughter would be safe. Lowered Michelle to the crib I composed my self and tried to sound calm. "You can have her after she has enough sleep," I looked up to him and feigning a smile.

"Give her!" His voice now trembled too, but was awfully loud. Hands that were holding the gun were shaking hard. I heard a loud bang I'd never heard before and felt a sharp pain in my skull.

"Michelle," my daughter's name escaped my lips before the world turned into pitch black.

* * *

I had been sat there for, I didn't know, two or three hours maybe. I didn't really pay attention to the Disney-princesses clock that sat on top of Michelle's closet. There were police officers scrambling all over the house, with the nursery as the center of the chaos.

I looked up outside the window, the rain had long gone. Velvety night sky started to make its appearance behind the grey clouds. Several neighbors were standing behind the police line, curiously peeked upon my house and shared whispers.

"Oh my good Lord, I just came to ask her for sugar. Why do I have to go to the precinct?" Mrs. Grant's rant could be heard from outside the nursery.

"We just need you to testify Ma'am." The detective's voice mirrored his impatience. Mrs. Grant could be a pain in your rear end sometimes.

"I'm not going to give you more than what I've told you before" I could imagine Mrs. Grant rested her hand on her hip, probably poking one finger to the poor detective's chest. "I came for sugar, the front door was wide open, no one answered me, I let myself into the nursery, and I found the poor girl drowning in the pool of blood."

I chuckled bitterly; it was so Mrs. Grant to exaggerate every situation. I wasn't drowning, yes, the blood was probably drained from my body, but the plush carpet absorbed it. I turned to look at my dead body. It wasn't even grimy at all, just weird. The bullet hole in it forehead, make my head looked like it had three eyes or something and the stained plush carpet was looked like, a stained plush carpet. It wasn't look like a pool of blood at all.

My eyes met Michelle's crib. Why the hell hadn't the child service agent came. I didn't want Michelle to wake up to her mother's stiff body. I wanted her to be taken soon, to be saved. I moved closer to the crib and leaned over my daughter. She was sweet and angelic, sucking her thubm as she slept. I wondered how she would be without me.

When I first woke up couple hours ago, she was in the middle of her trademark shrill, her face flushed red, and her feet kicked out like crazy. I tried to spoon her with my arms, but it seemed like I touch the air. I tried and tried and tried so many times, but I couldn't even smooth her hair. I screamed over and over again, asking for help, but no one come. It took me a very long moment and a sight of my dead body to realize that I was no longer solid, no longer alive. That the bullet had took the last breath out of me. I ended up sobbing beside the crib until Michelle fell into a tired sleep, until Mrs. Grant entered the room.

"You can bring the body now David," the man who kneeled in front of my body spoke to the man who recently poked a long stick into my abdomen.

"Hey, what we got here?" A leggy brunette entered the nursery hauling the same box that the kneeled man had. Her question addressed to the kneeled man, but it was David who answered.

"A single gunshot to the head, TOD was five or four hours ago," David zipped the body-bag and hauled my body into a gurney with a help from another officer. I felt a little sad as they brought my body outside the room.

"I've done processing the body, you can start with the room Sara," the kneeled man nodded to the brunette. So her name was Sara, I had once considered it to be my daughter name, but I thought it was too short and I chose Michelle instead. I wondered if Michelle would grow up like Sara. They shared the same hair color, and I could bet Michelle would be as tall as Sara when she's in her twenty.

Sara walked to the side of the crib, peered over to see my Michelle. I bet she adored her rosy chubby cheeks. "She's beautiful, isn't she?" I whispered a question I often asked if someone saw Michelle for the first time. I was a very proud mother, I couldn't help it.

"Grissom where's the child service?" She looked down and let her hand hover over my daughter. I saw hesitance in her face when her finger about to met my daughter's toe.

"This is a long weeken; their agent is an hour away." This Grissom guy was standing and peered over the crib too. "I think we need to process the child too. It seemed like the killer had touched her," he pointed at some kind of smudge on Michelle's forehead and pointed at the similar smudge on my cheek. I gulped; the man had laid his dirty hand upon my daughter. I didn't blame him tough. He must had missed Michelle so much.

"Yeah. It looks like an affectionate touch for me, not an abusive one. If the killer touched the victim and touched this baby too, I think the killer might have an emotional motive." Sara started to open the box on the floor. There were boatloads of unfamiliar gadgets in it. She extracted one brush among them and started to twirl it gently over Michelle's forehead. I hoped whatever things she put on my daughter was hypoallergenic. Michelle could be over-sensitive to several things sometimes.

When Sara lifted some kind of tape that she had patched on Michelle's forehead, Michelle began to stir. She let out a mewling sound that I knew would be another loud shrill soon.

"Umm Grissom." Sara looked up to Grissom who was twirling his brush on the door handle, "I think the baby is waking up."

"Oh...," Grissom looked back at Sara. They passed each other a strange glance, and I couldn't help but smile. I bet they never dealt with a crying baby before. Michelle chose the moment to perform a full-blown cry, and their eyes widened in horror.

"Should I.. uh," Sara stepped closer the crib, her hands were hovering over Michelle's body again, but her eyes still nailed to Grissom, as if asked for his permission.

"I think you should, " Grissom nodded before poked his head out of the room, "Brass, where the hell is the child service?!"

Of course Grissom's shout didn't do any good. Michelle got startled and started too scream. Sara patted Michelle's tight and made an awkward shushing sound. I snorted, shushing never worked with my spoiled little daughter.

"Lift her up please," I begged after a while, although I knew well that Sara couldn't hear me. Michelle's cry broke my heart, and I hoped Sara could comfort her.

"Brass!" Grissom yelled again, "Why didn't you bring her to the child service?"

"There's procedure for this Grissom, I can't just strap the baby in my backseat and drive her across the town," someone answered him from across the room. I recognized it as the voice of a detective that questioned Mrs. Grant

"Grissom you're not helping." Sara hissed, she awkwardly lifted screaming Michelle and held her at arm length.

"Maybe she needs some uh… milk" One of Grissom's eyebrow rose.

"Hug her, try to rock her." I absentmindedly gave Sara suggestions, but she still didn't budge. Only her eyebrows twitched performing a mix of worry and anxiety.

Michelle was getting louder, so I stepped closer to her. I hummed her favorite song to her ear, hoping for the best. To my amazement, she did calm down a little bit. Her eyes were wandering around as if looking for her dear Mom.

After a moment, Sara finally hugged her. She put Michelle on her shoulder and gently patted her back.. The cry subsided and I smiled. "That's good, it's her favorite position," I commented.

"What?" Sara glared and hissed to someone behind me. I turned around and chuckled. Grissom had his mouth sprang open and hazily stared at Sara. It was like he had seen an alien or something.

"What are you looking at?" Sara hissed louder and Michelle stirred again. She swayed in her spot to comfort Michelle. I smiled when I see Sara planted a soft kiss on Michelle's temple. I could tell that after a while this woman finally show a good motherly instinct in her.

"You.. ahem," Grissom cleared his throat, his eyes oddly gleamed. "You look beautiful with the baby," he shook his head and stepped closer to us. "You look natural," he put his hand tentatively on Michelle's back and brushed the knuckles of his other hand on Sara's cheek.

I coughed and they parted. Well, they didn't part because of me of course, since probably no one except Michelle could hear me that time. Michelle stirred again and let out a couple hick-ups.

"Honey, I think the baby really needs some milk," Sara winked at Grissom and I chuckled. Honey? It seemed like there were more than what met the eyes with this twosome.

"Right away Ma'am" He gleefully gave Sara a bow. "I'll see if I can find something in the kitchen for you babybug. How about a bottle full of milk huh?" he cooed, tapped a finger at the tip of Michelle's button nose.

I was watching his firm rear end as Grissom walked towards the nursery door when a sudden eruption of voices came out from the outside.

"Stop!" I recognized it as Brass' voice.

"Hey, stop him." An unfamiliar voice followed by the panic screams of my neighbors set me in alarm. Something was wrong.

There were rushing sounds of footsteps, some more yells and screams and a bang that was now familiar to my ear. It was a gunshot bang. The door burst open, and a man entered the nursery. It was the same man that had killed me not more than four hours ago. The man was my husband, entering the room again with a gun in his hand. The déjà vu was so real that I shuddered in fear.

"I just," his body jerked back and forth as he tried to lock the door. "I just want my Michelle," his head snapped in jolts, the sign of his nervousness.

"Carl…," I didn't know what else to say but his name. He managed to lock the door and strode toward Sara and Michelle, toward us.

I eyed Grissom in the corner. Carl didn't realize that there was another man in the room. Grissom stood still, but his eyes let me knew that he was alert. I was hoping that Grissom also had a gun in his hand, but he didn't.

"I want my Michelle" Carl held out his hands, one of them held the same gun I saw hours ago.

Sara took one step backward, her back met the edge of the crib I could see her arms tightened around Michelle's body.

"Give me my Michelle, " his tone was more demanding now that he hoisted the gun to Sara.

"Hey, open the door!" someone banged at the door. It did the trick. The thing that I was afraid would happen unfolded in front of my very eyes. You just couldn't startle a man like Carl. Not with his current mental and physical condition.

Carl pivoted in his spot, his eyes met Grissom's and he started to scream. Grissom made one swift move forward to take the gun from Carl's hand. The frantic movement and the jolting of Car's head didn't make him any easier to take down. He pushed Grissom back to the wall with his nearly two hundreds and fifty pounds body. With a loud thud, Grissom fell to the floor.

"Grissom!" Sara screamed, I screamed too afraid of what would happen next. Michelle started to cry and wriggled in Sara's arms.

"Give me her!" Carl turned around to face Sara.

I saw Sara reach out for his gun with one hand, but Michelle was wriggling hard and about to slip from her hand. Sara put both hands back around Michelle, bit her lip in anxiety.

"Give her now!" Carl was coming closer. His body now jerked as frequent as his head.

The door burst open for the second time that day. Brass stormed in with some officers.

"Throw your gun and put your hands where I can see them!" Brass shouted, his gun trained to Carl. It was a mistake, a huge mistake. Years of living with Carl had taught me so well. You couldn't startle him, you couldn't yell at him, sweet and slow talk were the only way to communicate.

"Give me Michelle!" Carl screamed and I heard the third gunshot of that day. As if in slow motion, I could see the bullet burst out from Carl's gun, made its path toward Sara and Michelle.

There was another gunshot. There were profanities and screams. But I hardly cared; I saw Sara sudden movement as she turning her body around, curled to shield Michelle. Michelle probably would be safe, but Sara would not. Her body exposed to the bullet. Although the voice in the back of my mind said that it was useless, I instinctively threw my body in the bullet path.

* * *

The pain was different, easier too take then the first bullet. I didn't expect any pain first. Who was I kidding anyway; a soul without body shouldn't feel any pain. However, there's a kind of stingy feeling in my body and I knew I fell back to the floor. I hit the floor soundlessly and I closed my eyes, waiting for the pain to subside. I heard Brass gave out orders. I heard some officers yelling about how odd that the bullet didn't hit Sara. That it seemed to hit a wall and slightly changed its direction. I smiled, grateful that somehow I was able to protect Sara as she protected my Michelle.

After a moment I rose. I saw Grissom woke up and rushed to Sara side, held her and Michelle in a hug. Carl was on the floor, one leg tucked under his body. Another leg was bleeding, the blood mingled with my previous blood, crimsoned the plush carpet. As Brass moved to handcuff his wrists, Carl cried. He was calling our daughter name over and over again as several officers led him outside.

* * *

I waited patiently beside Carl when an EMT bandaged his leg. I even gave him a quick peck on the cheek before I came to sit in front of Michelle's saviors. Sara with a sleeping Michelle curled in her arms. Grissom with his arm wrapped around Sara's shoulder.

The hustle and bustle around us were reduced a bit, but not vanished yet. There was a couple officers still milling around my house. A gray haired woman from child service had asked for Michelle a couple minutes ago, but Sara refused to give Michelle to her. I didn't blame her; Michelle had these cute factors that make you want to hold her forever. Grissom and Brass talked to the woman, and she said she could let Sara have Michelle for another hour.

The cold dawn air was breezing through and Michelle shivered. I reached out to warm her, but Sara beat me to it. She carefully tightened the blanket around Michelle's body and held her closer.

"We've talked about adoption before. I couldn't have any, and this baby doesn't have any relatives who want to take care of her." Sara whispered.

Grissom let out a heavy sigh that slightly irritated me. It seemed to me that he didn't like the idea of adopting my daughter. "It will require a long process Sara," he tucked her head under his chin. "We need to talk some more about this".

Sara looked up to him, her eyes displayed sadness and despair, "but…" she trailed off, her lips trembled.

"I didn't say no" Grissom smoothed Sara's hair with his fingers. "We'll talk again in a better situation, and if we think we're ready we can try and adopt her." He smiled and put his forefinger in Michelle's little grasp, Sara smiled, and I smiled too. It was a good idea. They might needed a lot of practice, but I was sure that they're built to be great parents.

I gave Michelle a lingering kiss. Somehow after my second gunshot I was able to touch her. I could slightly feel her skin against mine. I whispered words of love in her ear then I tried to wipe the mark of tears in her chubby cheek but I couldn't. I sighed, knowing that it was my end. My last moment with her. So I blew a kiss to her. "Be good sweetheart, Mommy loves you."

I stood and felt myself lighten. I took a last look at my house and replied today incident in my mind. I could blame Carl for what had happened. I could blame the mental institution that let him run away this night. I could blame myself for not seeing the sign of his mental disorder in our early years. I could blame his stress, his instability, even his pocket knife that didn't cut deep enough when he tried to commit suicide. I could blame the hospital that brought him up from his coma but never healed him emotionally. However, I chose not to blame anyone or anything. Things happened for the better. Regret and blame would only bring you one step backward. I forgave myself and I was sure I would forgive Carl and the world in the process.

As I walked backward toward the sunshine, I blew more kisses to my daughter. "Please, take care of Michelle," I addressed my line to Sara, but somehow both she and Grissom were giving a small smile at my direction.

**FIN**

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Hwew, I joined with the sentimental side of my muse again. Pretty lame huh?

Thank you so much for reading. I promise I'll take a good care of your review if you leave it on your way out :)


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